


Speak Out Loud

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Flirting, F/M, First Dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: The best part of any evening in the tavern is the people watching, says Cabot.
Relationships: Lace Harding/Cabot
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11
Collections: 2020 A Paragon of Their Kind Dragon Age Dwarf Exchange





	Speak Out Loud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toshi_Nama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Morning Chat in the Tavern](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552715) by [Joatrades44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joatrades44/pseuds/Joatrades44). 



The best part of any evening in the tavern was the people watching. That's why Cabot agreed to the job in the first place. The Chargers were in the corner, always good for a story or two, and Sutherland and his crew were upstairs, no doubt about to run off and get themselves into too much trouble, yet again. Cabot cleaned a few glasses and kept his eye on things.

The door opened, letting a draft in. It didn't close right away, the frigid mountain air whirling around the tavern.

"Could you get in or get --" the word 'out' died in his throat. "Scout Harding. Evening."

She finally shut the door with an apologetic smile. "Cabot, hi. Beer for me please, and keep it coming. I just got back from the Hissing Wastes. Hissing. Wastes. And it wasn't even as pleasant as it sounds."

He served up a beer and slid it across the counter. "That so?"

She nodded and downed half the beer without stopping to breathe. "Sand and wind, basically. I think I lost ten layers of skin. And not just in the places you'd expect. All the places. Secret places."

Cabot's heard a lot of things from a lot of drunks over the years, so he knew how to school his expression neutral, even though his eyebrows wanted to rise sky high to hear Scout Harding talk about her 'secret places.' 

He didn't know if wanted to hear more, or if he desperately needed her to shut up, or if he wanted to make a quip about his own secret parts. "Really," he said, instead of any of the other options.

"It was so bad, Cabot. I saw a thing -- I guess it was an animal? But I swear it had like, nineteen legs. What in the Maker's name has an odd number of legs? Nothing natural. It was bad news. We killed it, barely, and some of the men wanted to eat it, just to find out you know. I have never heard a man shit so loud as he did that night."

"Uh huh." Cabot watched her while she spoke, less compelled by her words than the way her lips moved around the words and the shine of her hair in the lamplight. He'd been watching Scout Harding for as long as he could remember. She was pretty, beautiful even, even if she was not his usual type. He usually went for elves, brunettes generally. But this stout, red headed wonder had bewitched him entirely.

Scout Harding took a deep breath, downed the rest of her beer, and motioned for another. He obliged, happily, though he kept a straight face. Wouldn't do for people to think he's going soft.

"Thanks. We hiked for days. Do you know how hard it is to hike over dunes? It's like walking through those stupid Orlesian marm-mallow things, whatever they're called. Ever had one of those? All soft and spongy, but too sweet. I hate them, but they're so much fun to eat. Well, walking over dunes isn't sweet, obviously, but they're way too soft. There's nothing for your boots to hold onto, so you just sink and slide. I twisted my ankle on the third day, but we couldn't stop. I wasn't the only one either."

"That's too bad," Cabot said. He wished he'd been there, he could have helped her walk back to camp and nursed her back to full strength. He was good at that sort of thing. He'd found a stray kitten once, with a funny limp, and by the time it was grown, it was as good as anything. Not that Scout Harding was a kitten, she was a full grown lady, of course, but the point was he would have been there to look out for her. But that would have left no one at the tavern, except, presumably, The Chargers. Cabot shuddered just thinking of the chaos they could have caused if left alone.

"It was so terrible."

"Uh huh."

"I'm so glad to be back."

"Right, yep."

"Well, thanks for the chat. I should get going." She left a few coins on the bar, much more than she owed him, and walked back out into the blustery wind.

Cabot went to sleep at the end of the night absolutely elated that he'd gotten so much one-on-one time with Scout Harding.

The next morning, before the tavern officially opened for business, Cabot was on his hands and knees, cleaning a very stubborn spill from under one of the tables in the back when he heard footsteps on the floorboards. Careful to not hit his head, he extricated himself from the table and chair legs and looked up into the radiant face of Scout Harding.

"Hi Cabot," she said. Her voice sounded like a choir singing.

"Scout Harding."

"Oh, please, it's Lace."

"Lace, then," he said. His heart swelled up in his chest. She trusted him with her given name.

"I thought over our conversation last night in my head," she went on. She was blushing, cheeks almost the same shade as her hair.

"Oh?" Cabot was not sure where this was going. He didn't like that; he preferred to be in control of his social situations, which is why he rarely spoke to people when he wasn't behind the bar.

"It wasn't really a conversation, was it? I just rambled on, complained really, and I didn't even ask you how your day was." Lace sat on one of the chairs he'd pushed back from the table and fixed him with a friendly look. "So. How was your day?"

In fourteen years of tending bar and six months of being with the Inquisition, and about forty years of being alive, no one had ever asked him that question before and meant it. Of course, it would be Lace.

"Marry me," he said, instead of answering her question.

Lace laughed, a bit startled but full of good grace and cheer. "Buy me a drink first, sailor."

"Don't have to buy them," Cabot said. "I run the place. C'mere."

It was early, so he made coffee instead, which Lace seemed grateful for. It was awkward at first, sitting on the public side of the bar, but Lace bumped her arm up against his while he talked. It was as comforting as it was distracting.

"And that's how I found out how heavy a snoufleur is," he finished. Lace laughed uproariously. She looked like a fancy Orlesian painting. Cabot risked a smile, but her bright laugh was infectious and soon he was laughing too.

"It's been real nice getting to know you," Lace said.

"Yes. Yes, I enjoyed it."

"Can we do it again?"

Cabot nodded, eager. "Any time. I'm always here."

"Dinner?"

Cabot swallowed. Dinner was… not getting to know someone with a mug of tarry black coffee. Dinner was more like courtship. "Any time," he reiterated carefully.

"Tonight? I mean. If you can spare the time. Sorry, no, I'm being a little… over eager. Whenever you've got time, it doesn't have to be tonight." She blushed again, and Cabot suddenly wanted very much to touch her.

So he did. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. She straightened up and let out a little 'oh' of surprise before relaxing again. Lace beamed at him and Cabot knew he'd spend the rest of his life chasing that smile.

Dinner that night was enchanting. Dinner the next night was even better. Lace was a sparkling conversationalist and had a thousand and one stories.

He kissed her proper on the third night, under the moonlight. She giggled into his mouth and gripped both his hands in hers.

It was as perfect as perfect could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Double dwarfs for double points? 
> 
> Thanks to my beta team and to Toshi for being delightful.


End file.
